The Lost Prince
by fadedwordsofluck
Summary: "'I have already told you that I may not speak of what has happened on Niflheim; however…' Heimdall looked closely at Thor who was listening attentively. 'However, there is perhaps one detail that I may share with you. It is that Prince Loki still lives, and at this moment he treads upon that forsaken realm.'" Set post-Thor. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Prologue

Falling through the void. He was falling, tumbling through nothingness, allowing himself to sink into eternity. He had resigned himself to this end at the final confrontation between himself and his father—_no_, Odin was no father to him—when the cruel Allfather had denied the lost prince any chance of justifying his actions or of reconciling their mistakes thereafter. He had lost hope entirely and let go of the scepter in Thor's grasp. At that time he had believed that doing so would result in certain death. However, that was not what the Norns had determined to be his fate; a far more brutal punishment lay ahead, in which he would live to see many more bleak and unbearable days.

And as he fell, all he could think was, _Please, do not make me suffer this fate alone._

* * *

**(It gets better, I promise.)**


	2. Revelations

**A Note: I, of course, own nothing here (save the plot). I hope you consider submitting a review. Thank you for reading! The second chapter will be published on Monday.**

* * *

Thor was stunned, for what he had thought was not possible was indeed real: Loki had survived his descent into the void.

The message had been communicated to Odin by Heimdall in a report regarding "a sudden disturbance in the realm of Niflheim." That the Asgardian gatekeeper withheld a significant amount of details while discussing the issue in Thor's presence was apparent, though the latter little understood the purpose of doing so at the time.

Odin considered this matter for only a few brief moments before dismissing Heimdall with a curt nod and carrying on with his other affairs. Yet, Thor could not content himself with his father's decision to ignore Heimdall's report. Niflheim had certainly never been acclaimed for its peace, being a land full of murderers and miscreants. But, while Niflheim had proven itself to be a nuisance to the Asgardians in past millennia, neither Odin nor his father before him had bothered to intervene in the ongoings of this chaotic realm.

And that was precisely what troubled Thor now—what sort of disturbance, in a realm notorious for the terror which is wrought upon it daily, would cause the wise gatekeeper to come directly to his king? There were a few possibilities which crossed Thor's mind, but he could only be certain by confronting Heimdall.

* * *

As the being who could see and hear all things which transpired throughout the Nine Realms, Heimdall knew very well the purpose for Thor's visit to the end of the Rainbow Bridge that day. He allowed Thor to dismount from his steed and to close the short distance between the two, Thor standing directly behind him. The warrior prince waited patiently for Heimdall to acknowledge him, but his breathing was tense as he prepared himself to put the question to Heimdall.

Having determined his response to the inquiry which he was anticipating, Heimdall turned to face Thor whose face was composed despite the anxious manner in which he curled his thick hand around the handle of Mjölnir.

"My Prince Thor," Heimdall greeted the younger god in his typical formal tone, "how may I be of assistance to you this day?"

"You must tell me all that you know of this incident on Niflheim," Thor responded gruffly and without hesitation. As an afterthought he added a softer "please" for fear that he had otherwise caused the well-respected and proud Heimdall to be uncooperative.

"I am afraid I cannot disclose particular information regarding the event, for I am bound by confidentiality to the Allfather. If you wish to know something, you must seek an audience with him," came the gatekeeper's passive reply.

"My father will refuse to answer me; you know this." Thor persisted with his demand: "As the future king of Asgard and protector of the Nine Realms, I believe I have the right to know what has happened on Niflheim. And you, as Asgard's gatekeeper have a _duty_ to me to keep me informed of such matters."

At this appeal to his loyalty to the brave and honorable prince, the ever-faithful Heimdall felt his resolve sway.

Thor noticed this change in his attitude and, with more confidence, repeated, "Tell me all that you know of this incident."

"I have already told you that I may not speak of what has happened on Niflheim; however..." Heimdall looked closely at Thor who was listening attentively.

"However, there is perhaps one detail that I may share with you. It is that Prince Loki still lives, and at this moment he treads upon that forsaken realm."

* * *

Once he had recovered himself of the shock which followed this great and thoroughly unexpected revelation, Thor thanked the gatekeeper for his help and returned to the palace, to his own chambers where he knew he would be permitted the privacy he required to think. He sat himself in a large chair upholstered with rich, luxuriant red cloth placed before a blazing hearth which his servants had lit that evening. His eyes focused on the high leaping flames as his mind fell into a trance. With the back of the forefinger of one hand he subconsciously rubbed the golden beard growing beneath his jawline, a motion he was apt to do when a pensive mood took him.

_Loki, my dear brother, still lives_, Thor thought ceaselessly. Nothing had ever brought him greater joy than this knowledge, but his happiness was tempered by worry and paranoia. For the sake of his younger brother, Thor was concerned with Loki's involvement in the trouble on Niflheim; there was no doubt in his mind that Loki's sudden reappearance was related to the incident which had caused Heimdall to stir from his post. Furthermore, he could not fathom the reason for which the Allfather had treated such information in so offhanded a manner, nor the reason for which he neglected to share it with his son and heir. Thor wondered if Odin had even bothered to tell Frigga, his queen and Loki's adoring mother.

For hours Thor pondered this line of thought. When dinner was announced, Thor chose to remain in his chambers. His mind was far too preoccupied to be troubled with social responsibilities. Anyway, by this time Odin would have learned that Thor knew the truth about Loki, and Thor did not particularly wish to discuss with his father what he was planning to do in light of this fact. So Thor continued to stew on his own, moving restlessly throughout the night.

Early the next morning, Thor awoke to the first light of the day streaming in through the grand windows opposite his bed. The brightness of the room was rather disorienting, and Thor wiped a hand over his eyes to clear them of sleep. He did not recall retiring to his bed the previous night, but he was mightily glad he had, for his mind felt well-rested and prepared for what he suspected would be a fairly challenging day.

As he sat up in bed, he remembered the news of Loki's survival, and a tender smile grew on his lips. There was yet hope that the younger prince could be brought home, and Thor yearned to be reunited with his brother again.


	3. Dissension

**A note: I give to you the second chapter! Thank you all for reading. Perhaps you will feel compelled to leave a review? :D At any rate, the next update will come on Thursday. Have a lovely day.**

* * *

Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg had gathered in the quiet atmosphere of the lounge after breakfast to discuss Thor, the fearless leader of their small but redoubtable band of warriors. Being so fiercely attached to the God of Thunder, they naturally noticed the abrupt change in his behavior the previous day and wished to cheer him.

"Thor always appreciates a good brawl. We should take him out to the training fields," Fandral suggested.

"Aye, the day is too fine to remain indoors," Volstagg agreed. "And we could all use a bit of a distraction these days, Thor especially."

The others nodded in agreement. Since Loki's brief but destructive reign and subsequent death, Thor had become more focused on matters of the state, hoping to reinforce positive relations with the realms in alliance with Asgard. He studied tirelessly from his father the attributes of a worthy and noble king, sorrowfully denying himself the mock battles of which he used to compete with his closest friends, as well as the few opportunities to visit his beloved Midgardian, Jane Foster. All regarded it a shame that in becoming a more responsible and respectable prince, Thor was forced to forego many of his favorite pastimes and sources of amusement.

"Has anyone seen Thor this morning?" Sif asked of the three sitting beside her. None could respond in the affirmative.

"Come, let us find Thor now before he buries himself beneath his work," Hogun spoke after some silence.

* * *

The four had barely stood up from their seats when the doors of the lounge burst open, Thor striding through in his usual confident gait. The grin which adorned his sunny face compelled the others to make the same expression; Thor's joviality was quite intoxicating.

"My friends," he called to them as he approached. "I am glad to have found you. We are going on a quest!"

This announcement took his friends by surprise, but they were content to follow Thor along in anything he asked of them.

"Splendid!" Fandral laughed. "When shall we leave?"

"Within the hour. We must ready our supplies first," Thor said eagerly.

Volstagg gave Thor a hearty slap on the back while Fandral talked excitedly at Sif who only half-listened, preferring to admire the spirited prince. Each was relieved at the return of the bold and adventurous Thor with whom they were so familiar.

"Forgive my practicality, but you have not yet told the nature of this quest, nor to where it shall take us," Hogun observed.

"Yes, of course," Thor returned. His face darkened as he considered the way in which his friends might react once he had told them of the reason for this unexpected journey. Thor knew that he could trust his friends to support him in most things, but it was fairly likely that they would try to talk him out of pursuing this particular mission once they learned of his motive.

"It is probably best that I tell you forthrightly. I intend for us to go to Niflheim, the Realm of the Mists. My brother, Loki, has found his way there, and we are to retrieve him and bring him home."

The silence which followed was painful. He could guess that his four friends were equally, if not more, startled news of Loki's continued existence than he had been; whether any of them were pleased by this fact was not as easily ascertained. Thor was aware of their aversion to his traitorous brother during the dark days in which he sat upon the throne of Asgard, but he could not gage to what degree this antipathy now stood. Thor wished to assure his friends that Loki would not betray him or his father again when safely restored to his place on Asgard, but Thor would be a fool if he did not suspect the God of Mischief capable of repeating his actions from little more than a year ago.

Fandral was the first to interrupt the taciturnity: "Niflheim? That's a rather dreadful place, wouldn't you say? I mean, I thought traveling to Jotunheim was crazy, but Niflheim... And anyway, it's much too far away. I don't know how you expect us to reach it without the Bifrost at our disposal."

He was obviously avoiding the more delicate half of Thor's proposal, but he had a valid point. Thor had no idea how they might arrive there, let alone _return._

"Thor," Sif began in a restrained voice, "I know you miss your brother very much, but I cannot advise you to follow through with your plan. It would be reckless. Moreover," she continued, now growing heated, "it would be futile; Loki clearly does not wish to come back to Asgard, for if he did, he would be here now. But he knows better than to expect the same treatment he was once given as a prince of Asgard. I cannot imagine why the Allfather would sanction this mission."

Thor lowered his gaze at the mention of his father. The Allfather had _not _approved his quest to Niflheim—Thor had omitted to inform him of his intentions altogether.

His friends recognized the pained expression which appeared on Thor's face as he mulled over his dishonesty towards his father. They had probably surmised the truth long before, but they took his wordless response as confirmation.

"I'm sorry, Thor," Volstagg commiserated, "but I find I share Sif's doubts. It would be unwise to go after Loki, especially in contradiction to the king's wishes."

Thor nodded. "And what have you to say, Hogun?" he asked of his friend who had remained quiet during the deliberation.

"We cannot go to Niflheim."

Again, Thor nodded, but he did so more slowly, as though try to wrap his mind around something. "You have all spoken your minds, as I expected you to do. Perhaps I was being irrational, but I had rather hoped that at least one of you would honor your oath of loyalty to your prince and back me in my goals."

Thor hated using his claim to their allegiance against his friends, but he was truly saddened and disappointed by them. He knew not why he thought they would be so easily won over by this ill-conceived rescue plan which was unravelling by the minute. Their argument was convincing, and for a moment, Thor almost believed it. However, he could not bring himself to give up so easily on this chance to find Loki and make amends for the many wrongs he committed against his brother.

"Yet, one may travel alone on such a quest to Niflheim. _You_ may choose to stay here on Asgard, but I will not be prevented from going."

With an air of determination, the God of Thunder exited the lounge, leaving his four closest companions in a state of dismay.

* * *

In returning to his chambers, Thor was intercepted by two members of Odin's personal guard. They had been ordered to escort him to Odin's offices immediately, for the Allfather desired to speak with him. Thor emitted a heavy sigh and permitted the guards to flank him, their hands grasping his upper arms, as they walked to Odin's apartments.

He found his father sitting in a tall, upright chair of an elaborate design fitting with the golden theme of his rooms. Odin had been pouring over a pile of documents on his spacious desk, a pen in his hand flicking his initials on the pages as needed. Even as the guards pulled open the thick doors for Thor to enter, Odin did not budge from his spot. Thus, Thor stood expectantly before his father for a full five minutes when he had finally built up the audacity to clear his throat as an attempt to catch his father's attention.

"You will wait patiently until I am ready to speak with you, Thor," Odin commanded his son without the slightest glimpse in his direction.

"Wait?" said Thor incredulously. "It was _you _who wished to speak with _me._ I understand you are busy, but I too have things I would like to tend to."

Odin placed the final page of the pile back on his desk and rose from his chair: "Yes, I am _very_ busy. And so, I would appreciate it if you did not run about making plans for this... _inane_ journey to Niflheim!"

Thor's face betrayed his surprise at hearing his father reference the quest he had decided upon only a few hours earlier. The Allfather continued to reprimand the prince:

"And because you _insisted_ on keeping this decision from me, your king, I was forced to order an escort so that we might finally have this discussion. Thor, I place a significant amount of trust in you, especially in assigning you the responsibilities of managing affairs of the state and commanding my armies; it, therefore, pains me greatly when you flagrantly choose to defy me!"

The argument had, at this point, lost all semblance of a civilized and sedate conversation. Thor could not quell the anger which mounted inside of him; it had to be vocalized.

"You trust me to govern your people, yet you cannot tell me that my brother, one whom I hold most dear, continues to live? Your hypocrisy disgusts me, father."

Odin, too, was outraged. While his face remained impassive, the tone of his voice indicated the storm which brewed within him: "You will not question my judgment. I have kept this information confidential for reasons concerning the security of Asgard. You need not know more than that."

As his father spoke, Thor paced about the room, shaking his head at the things he heard. The Allfather's response did not satisfy him in the least.

"But Loki is your son!" He exclaimed, waving his hands about in gesticulation. "I cannot believe that you would rather sacrifice him to that wretched realm on which he has found himself than take the risk of searching him out. What have we to lose by bringing Loki home? I speak for myself as well as my mother when I say that Asgard is where Loki belongs. As a family, we are duty-bound to look after one another. There is no greater responsibility than that."

Thor's speech quieted Odin momentarily. While the prince could not see what the king was thinking, he knew he had struck a chord somewhere.

"Thor," Odin began, his voice weary. "It is out of obligation to this family that I wish to prevent you from traveling to Niflheim. It is a very dangerous place, as I am sure you are well aware. Your mother and I, we could not possibly bear to lose another son. You must understand that." Odin paused, and the two shared a doleful glance. "And I cannot be certain that Loki's homecoming would be well-received or even felicitous. I fear that his heart would have become so filled with poison that he would be unrecognizable to us. It is best to keep him at a distance."

The Thunderer's indignation of a minute before was replaced by sorrow; his father truly believed Loki to be beyond hope, and, therefore, would sooner proclaim the exile of his son than place him in the hands of the ones who loved and missed him. Having been sent to Midgard under exile himself, Thor could sympathize with anyone in unfathomable despair, any who felt dejection, unworthiness, and confusion. He wondered how Loki felt at that moment, given all that had happened within the space of several dark months.

"No, father. I must find Loki and guide him home, even if I do so alone. I will never feel ease until I try."

Odin nodded, his lips pressed firmly together in an expression of disappointment for not having been able to convince his son. "Your unfailing compassion and determination will be the standards by which your contemporaries will measure you as a king. I still think that this journey is a mistake, but perhaps it is better that you discover it for yourself. No matter the circumstances," Odin placed a solemn hand on one of Thor's immense shoulders, "I will always be proud of you."

The Allfather turned away before Thor could utter another word and passed through the threshold to the adjacent room, hidden from sight.

The discussion had obviously come to a conclusion, but Thor could not shake the feeling that there remained something as yet unsaid between them. However, dwelling on this problem would not be of much use to him now; he needed to make preparations for his journey.


	4. Genesis

**A note: Thank you all for keeping up with the story and reviewing! I feel obligated to tell you that this chapter contains some violence. Please don't be shy about sharing some feedback; I'd love to improve the story with readers' input if possible. Enjoy!**

* * *

The guards who had accompanied him earlier now stood at attention outside, holding the doors as Thor egressed from Odin's office. He started off at a brisk pace towards his chambers to pack supplies.

Although a very experienced traveler, Thor could think of very little to bring with him to Niflheim. He knew not whether it would take hours or weeks to locate his younger brother on the vast and treacherous land, nor was he certain of the realm's climate; few warriors elected to go to Niflheim, and of those who survived, none wished to speak of their experiences.

In a small but elastic and durable bag, Thor stored a set of knives, a pouch of golden coins, a few containers of fresh and dried fruits, two flasks of the purest Asgardian water, some blankets, a spacious, impermeable tent, and his warm, black cloak. As an afterthought, he tucked Loki's forest green cloak with velvet lining and a few rolls of bandages. It was probable that Loki would need some medical attention once delivered into the hands of an able physician, but Thor would have to tend to any immediate wounds.

Thor stared at the pack as he tried to think of anything he may have forgotten. As a child, he would have been amused by the comical nature of the bag which was enchanted to accommodate objects of any size, so long as its carrier was willing to hold its weight. He smiled forlornly upon the recall of memories of pretending to go on long and arduous odysseys with his little brother when they were but mere children. Being the older and stronger one, Thor always designated himself as the valiant hero to Loki's villain, or on other occasions, the selfless savior to Loki's captive. That these childish games should precede the reality of his adulthood distressed Thor greatly. He wished he could have had the foresight to prevent the tragedies of the year before from occurring. Alas...

* * *

Waking himself from this reverie, Thor opened the door to his grand wooden wardrobe. Inside hung his familiar battle armor, recently polished after a diplomatic function with the visiting Vanir ambassadors.

He carefully donned the armor, fastening his vibrant red cape under the outer breast plate. The God of Thunder peered at his reflection in the mirror, at his grim blue eyes hardened by daily tribulations, at the firm mouth and jaw which many said to be becoming of a future king. Thor realized he had forgotten the winged helmet which traditionally belonged to the ensemble, but he allowed it to remain on its shelf in his wardrobe. There was little point to the helmet, beyond the trivial aesthetic.

Reaching for his weapon, Mjölnir, resting at his feet, Thor left the room. He made his way to the grandiose throne room where his father and mother were likely waiting to bid him farewell. Thor had not spoken once to his mother since learning about Loki's appearance on Niflheim, and he felt ashamed for not consulting her about this all important mission. Odin, however, surely would have relayed to her the pertinent information—hopefully omitting the details of their disagreement—for, though she was without sovereign power, the Queen Frigga was a distinguished and influential woman, especially in the eyes of her husband.

The throne room, usually filled with the loud cacophony of voices of innumerable spectating Asgardians, seemed desolate upon first entering it. Besides the usual guards which were lined about the doors, Odin and Frigga were the only ones there. They waited until he had reached the foot of the steps of the throne before descending to greet their son.

"Thor, my beloved son, I cannot express my happiness in knowing that you will soon return to us your brother Loki," his mother smiled, tenderly cupping his face in her hands. "I only wish I can make the path smooth for you to walk upon. But I know you are well capable, regardless."

"Thank you, mother, for your blessing and your confidence in me. It will certainly be difficult, going to Niflheim on my own."

"Then it is good that you will have your friends to look after you!" boomed Volstagg from the opposite end of the room.

Sif and the Warriors Three approached the small family together, each wearing his or her respective armor and carrying weapons and shields and bags of varying types.

"My friends, I thought you would not be coming," Thor said, with a slight pitch inflection at the end, as though he had asked a question.

"And let you have all the fun? _Never!_" Fandral quipped.

"We will always be by your side, Thor," Hogun promised.

Thor beamed at the friends whom he knew to be true. The mission would certainly be made much easier with the four most celebrated warriors of Asgard supporting him.

"If you are all finished, it is time that you start on your way." Odin's voice commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

To Thor, he said, "I will use a spell to transport you and your friends to Niflheim. A warning: traveling under this spell, while expedient, may cause you to suffer from mild illness. It may be some minutes before you are able to recover. Assuming Loki is well when you find him, he should be able to deliver all of you safely to Asgard. Otherwise, Heimdall will alert me when you are ready to leave, and I will attempt to work the spell from here. But that is a very risky operation, and I would prefer not to try it if it can be avoided."

Thor nodded, straightening his back to show his father he was prepared to begin the spell.

But Odin had more to say: "I do not expect this journey to be easy for you; in fact, it may the greatest challenge you have faced thus far. The precise whereabouts of Loki are unknown to me; you will have to seek him out for yourselves. Along your travels, it is quite likely that you will encounter bandits, assassins, and the like, and as a very conspicuous team, you are sure to be followed. Try to stay hidden. I am afraid that I having nothing more to tell you; my knowledge of this realm is limited."

He looked to each of the warriors facing him, recognizing each by name: "Fandral, Sif, Hogun, Volstagg, Thor... good luck."

Frigga smiled fondly at her son, reaching out to squeeze his hand a final time before moving to stand beside her husband. Odin, with his gleaming scepter in both hands, began to mutter the necessary incantation. Thor raised his free hand before his eyes to watch as the spell took effect. His skin tingled as he saw the very atoms of his being dissipate in the air. The magic at work in this transportation spell was quite unlike that of the Bifrost, in which a sudden flash of light would grab hold of their bodies and drop them instantly on the other side. This magic was much more intricate and demanding of its conjurer; Thor could understand the reason for which Odin preferred not to use it.

The God of Thunder was deep in thought when the spell delivered the five to Niflheim. To be swept through the cosmos in mere seconds had a dazzling effect, and as Odin had predicted, he felt quite unwell in the aftermath—in truth, far more than the Allfather had suggested. The pain in his muscles was so intense that he felt as if his limbs were being torn from his body, and his stomach churned, threatening to loose all its contents. His mind, however, suffered the worst. In a state of such agony, it was difficult to find something with which the experience could be compared; he thought it could be most accurately described as a massive hand or paw gripping his brain and squeezing it as though it was a juicy piece of fruit before digging its claws into the matter and shredding it into nothing.

This feeling passed quickly, Thor was glad to note, and as he regained consciousness, he saw his friends quickly rising to their feet. He was about to ask after the health of the others when he saw Hogun place a finger over his lips, signaling for Thor to remain silent. Wordlessly, he collected himself and stood among the other four, taking in their surroundings.

* * *

Niflheim, Realm of the Mists, was aptly named. In every direction, the landscape was veiled with a thick, suffocating white fog. Thor thought he could see the outline of treetops which climbed with the slope of an immense mountain directly ahead. Currently, the five warriors appeared to be standing in the middle of an open field, consisting mostly of coarse dirt and stone with the occasional patch of straw-like grass. The air tasted heavy and wet, yet chilling. There was a faint smell of rotting leaves lingering in the air. The fog also seemed to dampen sound in this world. While he could hear his own anxious breathing, that of his companions only a few feet away from him was entirely indiscernible.

Whatever had caught the attention of Sif and the Warriors Three earlier had ceased to be perceptible. All were extremely uncomfortable in their new surroundings—Fandral remained woefully nauseous and gingerly rested himself on the hard earth—and fell into a subdued dialogue.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. It is nigh impossible to know what lays five feet in front of us," Sif grumbled. "But I do know that our arrival here on Niflheim was quite pronounced. A bold light was briefly emanating from the sky, presumably tracing along the path of our travel. I fear that this obvious display of sorcery has revealed our location to hostile parties."

Fandral began to retch loudly, leaning forward on his knees. The others turned away, but they could not escape the sound. They were painfully exposed, standing out in the open. And as Sif had said, anyone with inimical intentions could easily find them...

As though the thought had summoned them, a group of marauders slashed through the fog with blades of intimidating size. They were intelligent fighters and knew how to manipulate the naturally hazy atmosphere well, and being larger and more numerous than the Asgardians, the assailants were at an immediate advantage over the five weary and bewildered warriors. While the adrenaline suddenly released into their systems helped to react and fend off the bandits, the Asgardians were visibly struggling. From all angles came the well-placed blows, drawing blood in places without proper armor.

Thor thrashed his hammer about, knocking his enemies off of their feet. His skills in battle were to be envied, for sure, but he felt inhibited by the disorienting layers of fog which seemed to invade his eyes and mind. Thor was also painfully aware of the bright red cloak draped from his shoulders which made him an obvious target. There was no time to address this issue, however. He took on the majority of the enemy, often more than one at a time, hoping that his friends would find an opportunity to try something clever. That was what they truly needed at this moment—not brawn.

Alas, such an opportunity did not find their way to them. Instead, Thor was forced to reevaluate their strategy, deciding a formation plan would be necessary if they wanted to survive the fight. The leader of the small troop was calling out his orders when there was a sudden and unexpected interruption in the battle.

Screams erupted from the lips of the members of the opposing force as the long, keen blade of a sword was thrusted into the trunks of their bodies. The newcomer to the battle stalked them in silence; he preferred to strike from behind, piercing their hearts, decapitating them or swiping the edge of his sword against their abdomens, spilling their guts. He fought with notable self-assurance, ably disposing of the horde of bandits within minutes and suffering only minimal injuries.

Thor gazed at this impressive warrior who moved with grace and vigor. Having killed most of the original offenders and frightening off the remainders, he made his way to the center of the field where Thor and his friends stood, his walk both slow yet purposeful.

A shadowy form in the distance, the solitary figure became more distinct as he approached the Asgardians. He was clad in darkly shaded garments from head to toe: a thick black shirt clung to his body over which was layered a tunic of an even darker hue of black, falling below his knees; tall, mud-caked boots covered creased leather pants. On his hands were a pair of well-fitting gloves, now stained by the carmine pigment of fresh blood. His face was obscured from all eyes, for a long hood was pulled over his head and a scarf was draped over the bridge of his nose, tucking into the tunic at the base of his neck. The ensemble was rather mismatched, as though the articles of clothing were grabbed, at random, from various sources. Yet, this unusual dress seemed to suit the enigmatic individual well.

Thor eyed the sword clenched in the hand of the cunning and merciless fighter who was very likely considering slaying the Asgardians now that the bandits were out of the way. The Asgardian prince supposed the fighter killed as he pleased with little regard to the lives of others. Thor knew he had to intervene in the latter's plans, for the sake of the friends who were at his side and for the sake of the brother who ought to have been.

"Please, come no closer. We wish no quarrel with you," Thor began cautiously, looking around at the Sif and the Warriors Three who were still collecting themselves after the fatiguing battle.

When the man stilled at his request, Thor grew more bold and continued, "I am Prince Thor, Odinson, of Asgard, and these four are my friends. We have come to Niflheim to find my brother, Prince Loki of Asgard, who has recently been seen walking upon this realm. He is to be taken home."

For a moment, the man showed no reaction to this infamous name, but then he raised one gloved hand and beckoned the Asgardians to follow him.

"You know where my brother is?" Thor asked, allowing himself to grow hopeful after such a discouraging battle against the beastly natives of the realm.

The hooded man gave a simple, dignified nod.

Thor turned to his friends, smiling. They regarded the mysterious figure before them warily; nevertheless, the four stepped forward and joined Thor at his bidding. Restoring their bags about their shoulders, the Asgardians started forth behind their new guide who was already moving for the tree line to the west.


	5. Cynicism

**A note: Thank you all very much for reading so far! I am very grateful to those who have left encouraging reviews; I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Of course, character rights and all the rest belong to Marvel.**

**Now, I present to you the fourth chapter!**

* * *

"I do not think it is wise to trust this man, Thor," Sif murmured to him at the first opportunity.

The six—Thor, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and their unexpected, faceless guide—had been walking for nearly three hours. The Asgardians had struggled to keep up in the beginning of the trek, for Fandral was still not entirely well, and Hogun, stoically bearing a gash from the battle on the underside of his thigh, limped along behind the others. Sif once suggested to the hooded man that they stop, even if for only a few minutes, to rest, but the abrasive man ignored her comment and pressed on.

The Asgardians were not sure whether the man was a mute or whether he simply would not deign to speak to them, but not one word had passed through his lips since their encounter in the open field. Communication between him and Thor consisted of the latter asking questions or submitting advice, both of which were duly dismissed by the former.

Always, the darkly outfitted man headed the party, following a curiously twisting path unmarked on the cold forest floor. The others trudged on behind him, feeling rather vulnerable in this unfamiliar territory. Thor made an effort to remain close to their guide, but on occasion he would fall to the back, casting a watchful eye over the unnervingly noiseless forest in decay.

Sif approached her friend when she believed them to be far out of the earshot of the man at the front of the group: "I doubt he even knows who Loki _is_, let alone where he might be on this odious realm. For all that we know, he could very well be leading us to our deaths. He's certainly capable of it," she said with dread.

"I disagree," Thor replied. "If this man truly wished to do us harm, he certainly had the chance to do so a few hours ago in that field. I suppose it is possible that he does not know where to find my brother," he conceded, "but I would much rather trail in the steps of this man than wander aimlessly and without proper cover."

"They are one and the same," came the biting reply of the irritated warrior. "He could be a rogue or some kind of sadist—he is of _Niflheim_, for Norns' sake! You cannot possibly trust him to help us."

"And yet, I find that I must, for there is no other alternative."

Sif was discomfited by Thor's words and said nothing in return.

* * *

The party remained in motion for another two hours at least—no one saying anything at all—before the rumbling of their stomachs became audible and distracting. The hooded man assented to stopping for the night (daylight, already a scant commodity in the ever-present fog beneath the broad, thick foliage of the treetops, was fading rapidly), though perhaps a little reluctantly. Anxious to remain inconspicuous in the dangerous woods, he was clearly not pleased to see Volstagg building a fire, though it was necessary for preparing food and staying warm.

While the Asgardians set up their temporary camp, complete with two tents, the loner crouched at the base of a tree, leaning on his unsheathed sword. Intently, he listened to the night. When Fandral offered him a bowl of watered-down soup as prompted by Thor, he stared blankly at the bowl (or so it was assumed; his facial expressions were unseeable and, therefore, a total mystery) and then stalked off, out of range of the light emitted by the fire. However, he did not travel far from the campsite, merely patrolled the perimeter.

Around the meager fire sat the five Asgardians, each hungrily finishing his or her bowl of soup. Volstagg had prepared it in a shining black pot from a small container, one of several dozens which he had sensibly thought to bring. Although it did not satisfy the palate of the gourmand chef, the meal had plenty of nutritional qualities. The warriors were content just to finally have some food in their stomachs.

The dishes were cleared away, but no one seemed quite ready to retire. They all stared into the quickly diminishing flames, pretending not to be totally disturbed by the chilling forest atmosphere.

"You know, I've missed this," Fandral said suddenly, in a cheerful tone. When Sif shot him a withering look, he continued in order to justify himself: "No, seriously. It's been an awfully long time since we've gone on any sort of adventure together. I'm glad to be out here, exploring the wilderness with my closest comrades. I say, aren't you having fun, Hogun?"

Hogun, sitting directly across from him, laughed quietly at the notion, shaking his head.

"Well, I know Sif agrees with me," Fandral asserted, feigning offense at Hogun's reaction.

"Hmm." She gave a slight nod in acknowledgement of Fandral's remark, but her eyes remained lost in the golden glow of the fire.

Fandral seemed to give up on this line of conversation, instead pursuing one more practical: "What will the sleeping arrangements be for tonight?"

"I think I'll be taking my own tent, if you don't mind," Sif stated.

"Of course, but where is _he _going to sleep?" He specified, jabbing a thumb in the direction in which their guide had last been seen walking. "Two to a tent is fine, but three can be a little... tricky."

"One of us ought to stand sentinel," Thor observed. "I will stay here for the first part of the night," he offered.

"No, allow me, Thor. I will take the first shift," Volstagg volunteered. "You are tired."

Thor was about to contest this, but he was, in fact, _very _tired. "Thank you. But you must be sure to wake me up for my turn."

Thor rose from his spot on the ground, and the others followed suit.

"We still haven't decided where our friendly little assassin will be sleeping," Fandral pointed out, clearly hoping to avoid sleeping beside the man in question.

"He can share a tent with you," Hogun suggested.

The others laughed at the sally aimed at Fandral while the latter shook his head emphatically, saying, "No. No, no, no, no, no. I object!"

But Thor, Hogun, and Sif were already entering the tents; the men in one and Sif in her own. Fandral stood outside with Volstagg who still sat beside the fire, which was nothing more than a few dying flames now. He groaned loudly and then stepped inside the third tent. After a few seconds, he popped his head outside to speak with Volstagg.

"Wake me up in two hours. I'll stand guard in the next shift."

"Sorry, can't do that. Prince Thor has already elected to take my place," Volstagg shrugged in mock apology.

"_Damn you_," Fandral hissed with narrowed eyes then withdrew his head from outside the tent.

Volstagg chuckled lightly, but was soon silenced by the abrupt return of the hooded man. "Oh, it's you," Volstagg laughed again, but more nervously this time. "Had a nice stroll, did you?"

As was to be expected, the man made no effort to reply.

"Right. Well, you can rest in that tent over there. Fandral's already settled in, but don't worry about bothering him; he's a heavy sleeper."

The man seemed to pay hardly any attention to Volstagg, choosing instead to kneel by the charred wood in the fire pit, as far from the Asgardian as possible.

"Or, I suppose you can sit out here with me," Volstagg mumbled awkwardly. "Can't say I don't mind having a little company." Actually, he minded very much.

The man picked up a stick at his feet and began to jostle the cooling embers. The fire died completely. Volstagg expected him to leave, but the man shrouded in black, totally invisible in the darkness, did not move.

"Good thinking. We wouldn't want to give ourselves away by the light of a fire." It was a useless comment; after all, the Asgardians could have probably attracted enough attention by the volume of their voices alone, a thought which left Volstagg feeling uneasy. He began to have a better appreciation for the taciturnity to which his current companion committed himself.

* * *

Without the light of a fire to keep him alert, the lids of Volstagg's eyes grew heavy; an hour into his shift, he began to doze off, his chin dipping forward and resting on his chest. At the first snore which escaped from his mouth, the hooded man stirred from the position in which he had patiently been waiting.

Gingerly, he walked toward the tents, stooping in front of the entrance to the one in which Thor and Hogun slumbered. Each movement was carefully considered to stifle any noise which could awaken the Asgardians. Laying outside of the tent was Thor's enchanted bag, tied shut in a tight knot. Removing the gloves from his hands, the man attentively worked the knot out and opened the bag. While he could not see inside, the man already knew the contents of the bag after watching Thor displace them in removing the tent earlier. With one hand he reached inside, groping for one object in particular. There was a faint, tinny clatter within the bag as metal struck metal, causing the man to hesitate. However, there was no evidence that the sound had disturbed anyone from their sleep. He then resumed his search, hyperaware to the rustle created by this action.

At last, he pulled his hand out of the bag and tucked the item of interest in the folds of his clothes. The string knotted once again, the man restored his gloves to his hands. He furtively slunk away from the campsite, but not before reigniting a smoldering flame in the fire pit.


	6. In absentia

Unlike on the realm of Asgard, the rays of the sun did not greet the travelers with the coming of the morning. As ever before, the mist pervaded the air, obstructing the view of things little more than ten feet ahead. Thor suspected the fog would become less dense as they progressed; their route appeared to take an upward trend, through the cool mountainous clouds.

Thor sipped water from one of his flasks, all the while conscientious of the rapid rate at which his minimal supply was disappearing. He settled the flask on his hip, looking over his shoulder at the three tents when he heard a gentle rustling from within one of them.

He was, as of yet, the only member of the party who had risen for the day. Thor had been awake for a few hours at least after relieving Volstagg from his duties as sentinel. The latter had roused him much later in the morning than Thor expected, but he was grateful for the few extra hours of sleep. Though he was indeed reluctant to leave the warm comfort of the tent, Volstagg's fresh fire was appealing in the frigid night.

Thor leaned in close to the fire, wrapping his warm cloak around his shoulders. He drew several thick slices of salted meat—boar—from one of Volstagg's many containers of food and placed them in a compact pan over the fire. As the scent of roasting meat permeated the air, his friends began to emerge from their tents. In her snug, fur-lined cloak, Sif padded quietly over to the fire and sat beside Thor. She would not say anything to him, but smiled when he sought out contact with her eyes. Soon to follow was the bleary-eyed Fandral, stumbling out of his tent in little more than his trousers and a wrinkled tunic.

"I'm hoping to shock myself awake with this chill," Fandral explained to others who were visibly astounded by his state of dress. He tried to pluck a slice of boar meat from the pan, but pulled his hand back with a yelp when it was scalded by the spitting juices in the pan. Thor nearly dropped the entire pan into the flames as he dissolved into laughter; Sif, too, snickered at the sight of Fandral childishly sucking on the ends of his burnt fingers.

Meanwhile, Hogun stepped outside of the tent, leaving Volstagg to rest for a few minutes more. Fully clothed and packed for the day's journey, he was somewhat annoyed to find that his companions were lazing about. Hogun kneeled before the fire and waited with the others for the breakfast to be ready.

"I wonder where that queer mute has gone off," Fandral pondered aloud. "He didn't join you in your tent last night, did he, Sif?"

"No!" she replied sharply to the question. "I thought we had all agreed that he would share yours last night."

"Everyone but the man himself."

"Although he has agreed to help us, he is a free agent and may do as he wishes. It is not for us to judge his actions," Thor reminded them.

"Unless he trespasses against us," Hogun added in an ominous tone. His comment stilled the others.

"How do you mean, Hogun?" Thor responded passively, as his father might.

"I heard him last night," Hogun began, turning to face his leader directly. "I awoke to a sound from outside the tent. He was rifling through the bag you left outside the tent. To steal from you, Thor."

"And you are quite certain of this?"

"Yes."

Thor nodded. He contemplated this information as he removed the sizzling meat from the heat of the fire. Someone supplied dishes onto which Thor forked individual slices, enough for every member of their little party. Each of the four gathered around the fire received his or her meal, yet only Fandral started to chew the meat, grasping the entire cut between his teeth without cutting it further into pieces. After a moment, Thor tasted the food as well, but not nearly as ravenously as the young blonde warrior sitting across from him.

Sif and Hogun exchanged a glance before Sif suddenly remarked, "It is as I told you, Thor. That man you have taken to be our guide, he _cannot_ be trusted. I wager he is already miles away, abandoning us in this land full of savages. He never intended to take us to Loki, only to steal your money and your weapons."

"Is that so?" Thor sighed. He handed his dish to Fandral and walked over to his tent, bending down to pick up the bag in question. He returned to his spot by the fire once more, setting the bag at his feet and opening it for all to see. Thor removed his pouch of gold coins and spilled them into his hand. Not a single coin was missing. Next, Thor removed the set of knives. Each blade was tucked in its designated place, keen and glinting as ever before.

"Interesting," Thor retorted, looking quickly at Sif and Hogun.

"You have other valuables in there, do you not?" Sif persisted.

Thor rummaged through the bag, noting each item as he placed it beside him. The only other article of considerable worth that Thor had brought with him was Loki's cloak, which probably held the greatest value of everything, given the climate of the region.

"So there is nothing missing?" Fandral presumed.

Thor shook his head, eyebrows furrowed: "Curiously enough, the only item unaccounted for is a roll of bandages."

"_Bandages_," Sif muttered defeatedly. "He stole bandages? Why?"

"For the usual reasons one might desire to have bandages, Sif," Fandral countered with derision.

"Had he asked, I gladly would have given them to him." Thor thought the man might have shied away from requesting help out of pride, but then he remembered that the man would not speak to any of them anyway. The compassionate prince was willing to let the matter go; after all, no damage had been done, and the Asgardians were in great need of assistance in finding Loki. They could not afford to lose this ally.

Nothing more was mentioned of the trivial theft. Volstagg made his appearance soon after, loudly declaring that he was famished as he reached for some food, which was, by that point, rather cold. He spied the last plate of meat which was laid out for the absent guide.

"I suppose no one will mind if I help myself to seconds?" Volstagg inquired with a lilt. The others were slow to react, and Volstagg had finished the food before anyone could intervene.

"That food was meant for someone else," Fandral informed Volstagg, who was still trying to swallow the large pieces in his mouth.

From behind the sturdy trunk of a tree appeared the man clothed in darkness. There was no marked change in his semblance to indicate where he had been during the night, nor of what he had been doing. He moved with composure and assurance, as though he knew nothing of the fatigue which hung over the others. One by one, the Asgardians became aware of his presence, and he returned their attentive gazes; he regarded Sif and Hogun with a particular, perturbing scrutiny. Offering no salutation, as always, he duly ignored the timid "Good morning" which was directed at him. Instead, he folded his arms and nodded his head in the direction of forest which thickened behind him, informing his dumb companions that it was time to leave.

"Let us gather our things. We must be on our way," Thor interpreted.

Their guide climbed through the trees to scout ahead. He could not be seen soon through the early morning gloom.


	7. Introspection

**A note: First, my apologies for not delivering two chapters last week. Second, I regret to say that this chapter does not meet my personal standards, but rather than stewing on it for much longer, I thought it best to just toss it out in the open. It will, at the very least, lead into the next chapter quite well. Third, I drew quite heavily from a scene in ****_Thor_****, which you will no doubt recognize. I defer to the authority of ****_Marvel_****, who owns all rights. **

**Thanks for reading.**

* * *

The group had covered many miles since starting off that morning, no longer clambering stiffly over rocks and the gnarled roots of trees. If any were sore from the strenuous activity of the previous day, none would make a complaint of such, especially not to Thor, whom all knew to be anxious to accomplish his goal. They toughened themselves and learned to keep pace with the agile native of Niflheim who had consented to helping the Asgardians find Loki.

The landscape in this part of the realm was rather monotonous; all that could be seen was a steep slope of thick, dark green trees. Some of the leaves and needles showed signs of disease, and trees uprooted by disastrous storms were hazardously strewn across their path. A layer of frost was painted overtop all exposed surfaces, lingering for hours in the bitter weather.

The forest appeared to be entirely undisturbed, and had it not been for the hostile confrontation earlier, Thor would have been convinced that this region of Niflheim was deserted. Knowing it was not so, Thor wondered where the inhabitants dwelled, so hidden away from immediate sight. He wondered whether they—whoever 'they' might be—were aware of the presence of the Asgardians and if so, the reason for which they hesitated to attack.

His minded wandered along a path as dark and perturbing as the one which the Asgardians presently roved.

* * *

_The ice-crusted terrain trembled with the power of the Bifrost as six of Asgard's mightiest warriors were transported to the sunless, frozen wasteland to which they were forbidden to go by the old king. Delivered unto the cracked face of a white rock, they looked with apprehensive wonder at the stalactite formations and over the edge of the escarpment which descended into a terrifying abyss. _

_"We shouldn't be here," one muttered._

_Their eyes continued to flick about warily. Their ears were pricked, listening for any commotion beyond the eerie howl of wind passing through the cavernous structures of ice._

_"Let's move," commanded the bold prince, and the five naturally fell into formation with the elder prince leading his loyal friends. They had come with a purpose, and he would not be swayed to abandon his mission by mere misgivings. Besides, the Frost Giants had been far too long without the power or resources to maintain a standing army; the Asgardians would find little resistance from their natural enemies. _

_They walked steadily through the jagged valley, among tumbling debris of collapsing buildings which once stood tall and majestic in the glory days of old._

_"Where are they?" _

_"Hiding, as cowards always do," the prince spat, the very words distasteful on his tongue._

They couldn't even muster the courage to face Father and I directly in their invasion of the weapons' vault,_ he recalled with contempt._

_They did, however, slip effortlessly from their realm to Asgard, being intercepted with only minimal security. Like Heimdall, he was curious to learn of the reason for which they went undetected for so long, not to mention how they came to know of the most opportune time and place to cross into his realm._

_While they did not abide by_ _the same code of honor as the Asgardians, their cunning and prudence was striking. Repressed for centuries by the Asgardian king who stole their Casket of Ancient Winters, the Jötunn had patiently awaited the opportunity which would restore to them their prestige, perhaps even offer the domination over their persecutors which they long craved. Entering the weapons' vault to take back this powerful relic was risky and not without many hours of meticulous scheming. The Jötunn knew how to bide their time, always letting the Asgardians make the first mistake, then preparing themselves for the counterattack._

_The group walked further towards the bleak edifice looming directly ahead of them before a gruff and menacing voice stilled the warriors in their tracks. _

_"You've come a long way to die, Asgardians."_

_The warriors' eyes darted about nervously, seeking out the person to whom this voice belonged, though he remained concealed in the shadows of the palace._

_"I am Thor Odinson," declared the confident prince._

_"We know who you are..."_

_Again, the Asgardians became uneasy as they wondered the precise size of the "we" in question, assuming the voice was not bluffing. Another thought nagged at their minds: had the Jötunn been expecting their arrival? The answer was more than likely in the affirmative, and if so, they would be poised ready for the inevitable fight. Diplomacy, already an impossibility in the mind of the Thunderer, could not salvage the destruction of a storm which had been brewing for centuries._

_Had he been wise enough to tread more carefully, the prince may have foreseen the tragedy which was to later befall his realm..._


	8. Hesitance

**A note: These new sneak peeks are getting me so hyped up for the release of ****_Thor: _****_The Dark World_****. I'm expecting to be really impressed by this one.**

**As for the story… Personally, I'm much happier with this chapter than the last, but please let me know what ****_you_**** think of it! Thanks.**

* * *

"What is on your mind, Thor?"

The God of Thunder, sullen-faced and silent, turned to find Fandral to his right. The usually ebullient and humorous warrior marched along with a calm, placid air. His eyes were focused on the rocky ground before him, but he occasionally looked over to Thor, his face openly showing his fondness for the prince. Thor would have dismissed his friend's concern with a noncommittal "Nothing," for he did not wish to burden Fandral with his ruminative thoughts, but he instead decided to turn the conversation to another matter.

"It is far too quiet in this forest, do you not think?"

Fandral lifted his eyes over to Thor with a knowing look, seeking out a reason for his evasion. He turned his attention back to the path in time to push away the prickly fan of foliage on a low-hanging branch before his face. After a minute, Fandral responded evenly, "Yes."

"I had expected more interference from the knavish people of this realm. Surely we cannot avoid them altogether?"

"Perhaps not, but I prefer to think that this... confederate of ours is keeping the undesirable party of brigands at bay," Fandral admitted.

"Whatever the case may be, we must take care not to underestimate any who cross our path."

The brief conversation then came to a halt, for neither Fandral nor Thor could think of anything more positive or definitive to contribute. The Asgardians passed through the thickly wooded forest with only the damp sound of heels pressing into earth and the slight snapping of twigs to signify their presence.

* * *

As time elapsed, Thor found himself wondering whether they were making any progress at all, or simply wandering the forest at random. Though he had hoped the fog would lessen, their surroundings remained as shrouded as ever before, obscuring their perception. These five Æsir, renowned for their keen senses, struggled to maintain an awareness of their location. They were constantly alert for signs of other people lurking by these remote forest roads, but they could not uncover anything tangible; all they had to rely on was their intuition.

The guide abruptly turned off of the well-trodden path through an even denser section of trees. Light seemed not exist in this direction, not among the plentiful stocks of daunting cesious trees. Some underbrush and vines crawled desperately along their trunks; most lay tangled and barren, decaying on the forest floor. Even the small, quite fearless creatures scampering through the woods skirted around this nightmarish arboreal mass. It did not appear to be a place meant for walking. Running would probably be a better speed.

He beckoned the hesitant Asgardians to follow him through the sinister jungle before disappearing into the mass himself. Taking their queue from Thor, the second to enter, Sif and the Warriors Three slipped between the trees, one by one.

Though not a substantial distance stood between Thor and the guide at the outset of this detour, Thor quickly lost sight of the latter. Suddenly feeling very disoriented, the Thunderer experienced a mix of emotions stir within him, anxiety and irritation at the foremost. _Of course, it is now when we are blind and vulnerable that an enemy would choose to attack_, Thor muttered inwardly.

With every misstep, he felt his faith in the guide waver. Clearly the man was no team player, and his loyalties were questionable at best; did Thor really think this stranger, a member of the vilest company in all the realms, would uphold his promise to direct them to Thor's brother? Then again, Thor reflected, no such promise had been made; the Asgardians—rather, the credulous and overtrusting Thor—had simply assumed the assassin who spared their lives would do as he indicated. Sif's earlier argument seemed far more rational to Thor now in a moment of disheartenment.

The sounds of the heavy footsteps and clinking armor of his friends behind him reassured Thor that, at the very least, the Asgardians would still be together. He dared not turn around to them while he was still trying to locate their guide. He groped at the coarse bark of the trees on either side of him, seeking a way out of that damned labyrinth.

Again, dark thoughts seemed to seep into his head. _That scoundrel whom I have taken to be a reliable informer has deserted us, cast us off as weak mice for preying birds. He has realized what an encumbrance we are to him and has decided to act in favor of self-preservation. He never had any intention of helping us._

_And what of myself? _Thor continued, unable to escape the despair and vilification which saturated his mind. _I ought to have learned by now to be more frugal with my trust. I have doomed myself and my friends because of a pathetic, diminutive hope in something which cannot be. I_—

A firm gloved hand tugged at his wrist, pulling Thor out of the forest and out of the shadows of his mind. His head, which had drooped towards the earth in his brooding, snapped up at the sudden movement. The instinct to resist sprung up in Thor; however, within a few steps he had emerged from the thicket.

A stone lying in the grass flew at the kick of his boot. His eyes followed the rough stone as it tumbled along the increasingly rocky ground until it reached the lapping waves of a placid lake. Thor supposed it was a lake, but in the fog the body of water seemed limitless, comparable only to the celestial sea at which he was so fond of gazing at night.

At the edge of the lake, the mysterious guide stooped to cup some water into his hand which he sipped but once and with a thoughtful air. He rose once more to his full height and turned to face the Thor.

Appearing to Thor almost like a specter in the mists, the faceless man stood patiently, watching the bewildered Asgardian prince. Thor was frustrated with the guide's behavior and yet relieved to be out of the forest; he made no comment other than an awkward "Thanks," to which the other nodded.

Sif, Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral joined them on the shore, huffing a collective "Finally!" Taking in their new surroundings, the four were quickly inspirited by the thought of an opportunity to rest and take lunch. The guide made no move to stop them, and they eagerly built up a small fire and broke open the seals of preserved foods.

Five large rocks were arranged about the fire pit as seats, uncomfortable as they were. The Asgardians were settled in by the fire, but their guide remained standing, still the spectator of their activities. After a moment's deliberation, he drew forth a sizable rock of his own, placing it—somewhat reluctantly—beside Hogun and Volstagg.

Dishes were passed around the circle, and the man took this occasion to observe his companions in which he had hitherto taken little interest. Each member received equal attention, but he took take not to stare too long to avoid arousing suspicion or discomfort. The man at last turned to his meal (soup again, but better prepared this time). Spoons, too, were doled out to each person, and upon receiving his, the man plucked at the scarf lain on his nose and pulled it below his chin.

The Asgardians pretended not to notice this partial unmasking, but sensing their curiosity, the man brought his hood down further over his cheekbones and dipped his head forward, his face once again covered by shadows. The soup he finished quickly and cleanly before restoring his garments to their appropriate positions. The others ignored him once more, freeing him to resume his studies of them.

On the opposite side of the circle, Thor shifted uneasily as he unsuccessfully attempted to divert his eyes from the guide. He mostly trained his eyes at the dish in his hands or at the pebbles at his feet, but Thor could not help periodically looking in the man's direction. He felt somewhat guilty for overreacting to the guide's fleeting disappearance, but he could not shake those troubling thoughts which had invaded his brain.


	9. Lake

For nearly four hours the six travelers reposed by their fire on the shore. The pale grey sky gradually transformed into the duskier hues of evening and then night; the stars which traditionally adorned the firmament were veiled by heavy clouds. In the absence of light, slight though it was during the day, the air cooled significantly, and the fog which was habitually cast over the land gave way to a cold, harsh wind. The gale swept up the vapors of the lake, and caused a transient but intense snow to fall upon the earth.

The six, meanwhile, stirred from their seats to shelter beneath the canopy of foliage at the tree line, refusing to move further inland. While conscientious of the possibility of being discovered, the Asgardians distracted themselves from the biting cold by sharing tales of daring deeds in battle or of instances of great wit. Some stories had been told many times over, and all were abundantly embellished to render glory to their tellers. The warm laughter which leapt out from their mouths indicated a mirth which had long been dormant within these warriors. For two hours more they amused themselves in this way as the snowflakes spiraled to the ground around them.

The snowstorm had long since ended when the guide rose from his crouching position against a tree and lit a torch—a thick branch stripped of its stems and wrapped with a gauzy substance about the blunt end—which he carried in a hand raised away from his face. He maneuvered across the rocky, snow-covered bank to the edge of the lake. The Asgardians watched him with undisguised curiosity as he gingerly extended his left foot onto the surface of the shallow water. The right foot then joined the left, and he stood motionless on the slick ice coating the lake. After testing the solidity of the ice some more, he returned to the five Asgardians.

"It's madness. We'll fall through!" Volstagg protested when they had deduced the guide's intentions to traverse across the massive frozen body of water.

Sif and the Warriors Three looked to Thor who gazed out at the lake, deep in thought. "Must we cross this ice?" he inquired of the guide.

The guide nodded adamantly.

"And there is no other alternative?"

The guide shook his head.

Thor, however, was not yet resigned to taking this route. "You are certain my brother will be... wherever it is you're taking us? How?" An interlude of silence followed.

"Of course, you cannot speak. Or, perhaps it is that you _will _not speak. Either way, your lack of communication is heavily trying my patience."

The guide remained unmoved by Thor's acidic words. The other warriors awaited a more violent outburst from their leader. It did not come.

Thor sighed with evident irritation before remarking, "Well, we ought not dally any longer."

He approached the edge of the lake with exceeding care, securing Mjölnir to his hip and wrapping his cloak tighter about his person. It was too dark for his eyes to discern the safest place to mount the ice; he cringed inwardly at his uncharacteristic hesitance.

The guide stepped around Thor, indicating the spots of ice which were capable of withstanding the weight of the travelers. Still rather unaccustomed to being displaced as the captain in the expedition, Thor was, of course, annoyed by the hooded man's assumption of leadership. But, if he had learned anything within the past year, it was to know when to pick his fights; therefore, he acquiesced to this change wordlessly.

The guide carried his own torch, as did every second person in the group. The snow-crusted ice atop which they walked with measured steps glinted with the light of the fire cradled in their hands. While they stayed within fairly close proximity of the shore where the ice was most sturdy and the depths of the lake most shallow, the hollow, marbly cracking of the ice made the warriors nervous.

The opposite end of the lake to which the group was aiming was still imperceptible after nearly an hour of walking. Easterly winds spewed powdery snow into their eyes and threatened to extinguish the flames of their recently refreshed torches. Shivers wracked through their bodies, yet not one person could earnestly wish the cold away, for they knew even a slight increase in temperature could make their passage impossible.

* * *

A muted light was creeping up over the horizon to signify the start of a new day. The path was now visible enough for them to venture without the aid of torches, and the tools were consequently discarded in the snow. Soon, the vague outline of the shore ahead could be seen at a distance of about four miles.

"Land, ho!" Fandral breathed despite his raw, chapped lips and hoarse voice.

As they neared the shore, the Asgardians quickened their step, eager to be on a surface with more friction. Their footfalls grew heavier, too, and the ice cracked loudly in reply. This sound only prompted the Asgardians to move faster.

When he heard the thunderous moan of the ice from behind, the guide turned swiftly to the Asgardians. He drew his long sword cleanly from its sheath on his back, pointing the tip at the rapidly advancing Asgardians, now skidding to a halt to prevent themselves from being impaled on the man's sword.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" exclaimed Thor as he wrenched Mjölnir from his hip.

Having recovered themselves, the other warriors drew their respective weapons as well.

Five against one, they stood with feet wide apart in a fighting stance, awaiting the guide's next move.

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**A note: I enjoy reading all your reviews immensely. If you choose to leave a comment, I would ask that you put some consideration into your comment and make it as intelligible as possible. Also, if you have any questions whatsoever, I'd be happy to answer them privately if you do not use the Guest persona. I want to do all I can to make this an entertaining reading experience for you all. (By the way, sorry for the somewhat late update today.) Thanks!**

**Edit: For further clarification, just read my note about reviews on my profile page. I explain it a lot better there.**


	10. Raptor

Even in the few moments of stillness, the cracking of the ice had not yet subsided. It echoed across the lake as a warning to all in the vicinity.

Lowering his sword and replacing it in its sheath slowly to assure the Asgardians he would not attack, the guide turned his back to them and proceeded to carefully inspect the surrounding ice. This erratic behavior confused the Asgardians, and they looked about at one another, wondering what course of action to take next. As always, they sought out Thor for direction, but the prince could offer nothing more than a shrug. They brought their weapons to their sides but refused to stow them away.

Despite the disturbing rumbling which resounded through that frozen wilderness, the fresh, fine veins crawling through the ice seemed inconsequential, having not yet broken through the surface. Reaching the shore was worth the risk of crossing the unsteady ice; at any rate, the group would have much less success if they remained any longer on the frozen lake. A thaw would be inevitable.

When the cracking sound had finally begun to fade, the guide continued forward. Unwilling to turn his attention away from the ice before his feet, he raised one hand in a inattentive gesture for the five warriors gawking at him from behind to follow. He was now infinitely more calculating and cautious about where he stepped, moving in a much less direct path than before.

As they had done in the thick of the forest, the Asgardians followed the guide in a sort of line, Thor on the latter's heels. With hefty shields, spears, and swords still drawn, the warriors struggled to maintain the balance they had earlier attained and were far more prone to graceless slipping. They were closer to the shore, but a fair amount of ice remained between it and the travelers.

A piercing screech rang out from above the lake, causing the six to jump. Soaring at an impressive height in the sky were two immense birds of prey. With massive and distorted, keen talons and feathers of a black goriness that evoked the image of a rotting carcass, these strange beasts inspired fear in the hearts of those who beheld them. The birds cast no shadow over the ground, which explained the reason for which they had gone undetected in the short period of time that they stalked the travelers. Presently, the creatures observed the vulnerable gods and their guide, deciding which would be the first to target.

"Let's _move_!" Thor commanded, and the whole company became reanimated, skidding across the ice while constantly looking up to monitor the proximity of the birds.

Once again valuing speed over heedfulness, the travelers were remiss in their survey of the ice. The cracking resumed, a sound even more immediate than before. The fractures were now visible, and with each foot that pressed upon a section of ice, water spilled atop it, causing it to become slicker.

A single misstep was all it took for a sizable piece of ice gave way beneath the weight of the guide. To the Asgardians who were running at his wings, his plunge into the glacial waters seemed to happen slowly, yet they could not recover themselves in time to catch him.

Hogun peered into the dark water. The guide was gone, sunken too deep for even their Æsir eyes to find him.

There was no time to mourn their loss, for the birds began to swoop down, threatening to snatch them with their talons. The Asgardians ran on, with feet sliding wildly in all directions, avoiding the cracks, and the birds, at all costs.

"Why are we playing the victims? We have weapons. We should fight them off!" Fandral urged.

"You may try, if you like," Thor replied.

Fandral flinched at the thought of taking on the birds by himself. He looked over his shoulder to glance at the birds gliding effortlessly behind them. "What the...?" he stuttered as he came to a halt.

Thor slowed and turned, curious, to see what had caused Fandral's strange reaction. When he saw it, he, too, stopped.

The drenched fabrics clung to the guide's figure as he hoisted himself from the water with his leather palms pressed on the ice. He found his footing quickly and surged forward into a determined sprint, his boots sure on the slick surface of the lake. The scarf, weighed down by the water it had absorbed, threatened to expose his features but for the hand which immediately flashed up to hold it in place.

"The people of Niflheim are astounding, aren't they?"

From somewhere about his person, a pair of knives were produced, the handles squeezed between the knuckles of his free hand. He was fast approaching the Asgardians and the birds which taunted them.

As soon as Thor divined the guide's intentions, he instructed the others to stand by to assist. The creatures with their hungry talons seemed pleased by this sudden challenge. Distracted by the Asgardians, each let out an instinctive shriek of pain as the blades flung upward ripped through their bodies. They were faltered in their flight. Dangerously close to the warriors they dropped, and before the birds could right themselves and gain altitude, the swords and spears of the Asgardians slashed through them.

Though they were shadowless, their blood stained the inlaid snow crystals on the ice like pitch. Their talons remained clenched and their eyes jutted out from their feathered faces. Terrifying even in death.

The guide collected the knives from the ice and wiped them on his sleeve before returning them to where they belonged. The Asgardians needed no invitation from him when he started again, almost nonchalantly, for the shore.

Even when they fell upon the hard, solid earth, no one bothered to mention the phenomena of his survival in the freezing water. Wired and weary, they accepted it as some sort of miracle for which to be grateful, despite their misgivings about the guide's character.

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**A note:** **I've been really procrastinating with this chapter. I know it's shorter than the other chapters, but I just really had to get those guys off the damn ice. (The birds give a nice touch to the infinitely creepy atmosphere of Niflheim, don't you think?) This chapter took a very different route from what I had initially intended, but I hope you can appreciate it all the same. Thanks for the reviews! You can ****_probably_**** expect an update for Thursday.**

**Regarding the title for this chapter:**

**_raptor_**** |ˈraptər| noun: a bird of prey, e.g., an eagle, hawk, falcon, or owl.**

**_rapt_**** |rapt| adjective: 1. completely fascinated by what one is seeing or hearing.**


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